


tell me that you love me

by idacarvalli



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Comics
Genre: 1872, 1872 AU, 1872 x MCU, AU, Alternate Universe- Old West, Dancing, Drinking Problem, Dumbasses, F/M, Fluff, Guns, Jealous Tony, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Stony - Freeform, cowboy, dumbass tony, no stevesharon, no stupid kingpin, pre-1872, stupid people screaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idacarvalli/pseuds/idacarvalli
Summary: Tony’s not jealous. He swears he’s not.It’s just that Sheriff Steve Rogers has been hanging around that gal Sharon Carter a little bit more than Tony would have liked.But he’s not jealous. He’s really not.
Relationships: James “Bucky” Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 143





	tell me that you love me

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably be working on Emehlweni Akho right now but I read the 1872 comics again and I just love them SO SO MUCH. So yeah, I’m in love with Sheriff Steve and this work was born. Just a quick oneshot, I might make a collection later.  
> Please note that not all characters mentioned in here are in the 1872 comics, but I took the liberty of adding some in, just for fun.  
> The title of this work comes from “Danny Boy” a traditional Irish folk song for immigrants. Tony actually sang it in 1872, and I just think it’s a beautiful song as well.  
> Also I love my girl Sharon so this is by no means any hate to her, I just needed someone to be the person who was being envied.

Tony didn’t get jealous. He just didn’t. He hadn’t been jealous when Pepper had been talking to the Killian fella, he hadn’t been jealous when Steve and Bucky had hung out together more often than he would have liked, hadn’t been jealous when Thor had come to town and stayed with Bruce. 

So he wasn’t jealous now, seeing Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter sitting together in the sheriff’s office. He wasn’t. It was just that they were so close together and laughing and Steve was happier than he had been in weeks. No big deal.

“Are you gonna move, or are you just gonna keep staring?” Tony turns around, and Carol Danvers is closer to his face than he would have preferred. 

“I ain’t _staring_ ,” Tony said indignantly. “And I’ll move.” 

“Christ,” he hears Carol mutter under her breath before moving away from Tony towards Rhodes’ place. 

He wasn’t staring. He wasn’t jealous. It was just that Tony usually hung out with Rogers after his morning patrol. But now Sharon was. That was fine, it wasn’t like he owned the time slot or anything. 

* * *

Supper was when Tony and Steve would go out to the bar and have drinks together, but when he got to the sheriff’s office to call for Steve, Sharon was there again. Apparently she hadn’t moved an inch since noon when he had come around earlier. They were still talking.

This time he interjected. Clearing his throat loudly, he entered the room. Steve and Sharon both looked up when Tony did. 

“Good evening, Sheriff,” he said, nodding as curtly as possible to Steve, who nodded back. “Sharon,” Tony continued, a little icily. “I was wondering if you were still interested in coming to the bar tonight, Steve.” 

Steve looked to Sharon, which pissed Tony off tremendously. “Of course we are, Tony,” said Steve, smiling. “I’ve gotta go for now, Shar. We can catch up tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Swell,” Sharon says, and gets up, smoothing out her skirts. “Well, you two have fun.”

_Oh, we will._ Tony smirks as Steve runs off ahead of him.   
  


* * *

The bar is crowded during the nighttime, despite Timely’s small population. Sam Wilson sits on a stool a good few feet away from them, drinking beer from a large mug. He’s talking to the bartender. Tony takes a seat next to him, leaving a few feet of distance. Rogers sits on the other side. Tony buys them both a drink.

“Are you sure you should be drinking, Tony?” Steve looks at him over the brim of his mug, filled to the top with beer. 

“I’m fine,” Tony says in reply, muffled by the sound of his own drink. “I’ve gotten used to it.” 

“That’s not a good thing,” Steve says, eyeing Tony’s glass with hostility. “You shouldn’t drink so much.”

“I told you, I’m fine.” Steve looks as if he wants to pursue the subject more, but Tony silences him with a look. This wasn’t what he wanted to come here tonight for. Steve drops the subject.

“You know, Sharon visited the Barton Clan yesterday?” 

Tony looks up from the beer, his eyebrows narrowing involuntarily. “What?” 

“She just mentioned that she visited Clint,” Steve was one of the only people in town to call Barton by his first name. “I dunno why. Haven’t asked.” 

“I thought you two’d share everything,” Tony mutters into his glass, and immediately regrets it because Steve shoots him a confused look.

“What?”

“Hmm?” Tony brushes it off quickly. “Oh, nothing, I just- remembered something. Yep.” 

“Alright,” Steve raises an eyebrow and takes another large sip of alcohol from the mug. “I was talking to Bucky earlier today. He and Nat are hosting a little festival in the square, yeah.”

“They are?” Tony asks. “I wasn’t told about this, apparently.” 

“Nat told us,” Steve chides, frowning. “You weren’t listening.” 

“Sounds like me,” Tony says, and takes another swig out of the mug. “I’ll be there.” 

“That makes two of us,” Steve places the mug on the bar and someone comes to collect it. Tony’s vision is so blurred that he can’t tell who. “Anyway, they said we should come with a partner.”

“Oh?” Tony lowers his glass and puts it down. It lands with a _clink_ on the wooden table. 

“Yeah,” Steve rubs his neck. “I was talking to Sharon about it earlier.”

“Oh, were you?” Tony frowns and turns away, trying to ignore that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, growing and changing and eating him. 

He still wasn’t jealous.

“Yeah, I talked to her about it, and she said ‘yes, I should take-’” He’s cut off by the loud slam of Tony’s palms hitting the wooden bar. Tony lifts himself up off the barstool and storms out, ignoring Steve’s protests behind him. He slams the bar door behind him, and for a moment, everything is silent. Then the building erupts into drunken chaos again. 

Tony’s not even sure where he’s going; just far, far away from Rogers. He knew that. 

He still wasn’t jealous. 

“Tony!” Steve’s calls are loud, despite the distance between them. “Stark, _wait_!”

Tony doesn’t really understand the feelings that’s driving him away from Steve, he just knows that the pang of pain and hurt mixed together in his stomach is a distasteful concoction, tearing away at his stomach and chest. So he walks faster and faster like that will drown out the hurt; in his mind, he’s building a wall made of pure stone. He puts it up. A mental block, if you will. 

Tony turns into a side street and hides himself in the shadows, ducking behind a stack of old, rotted barrels. It smells terrible. Out in the street, he can hear the Sheriff calling for him. He doesn’t respond. 

Why should he care if Steve goes to the dance with Sharon? Sharon was a fine lady, a good partner for anyone. A good wife. Maybe one day even a good mother-

_Alright, Stark, that’s enough_. There’s a little annoying voice inside his head telling him to keep overthinking. But common sense told him that Steve wasn’t going to get married anytime soon.

“Stark?” Steve’s still standing in the middle of Main Street, from what Tony can tell. Darkness encircles him, except for the small light burning steadfastly from the Danvers’ window. “Tony!” 

Something tells Tony that he should probably go out and tell Steve he’s alright, but the petty side of him tells him to stay where he is. He decides to listen to the latter. 

He stays in the alley for another hour, maybe. “Tony, I need to explain- I’m sorry if I surprised you- I’m really sorry.”

_You don’t have anything to be apologizing for, Sheriff Rogers._

Tony backs away towards his house. 

* * *

Natasha Barnes practically drags him down to the dance the next evening. Tony doesn’t want to go anymore, but he’s too afraid of Mrs. Barnes to refuse. So in the end, Tony ends up being forced to put on his best hat and head outside. The square is decorated a little, with a horse standing in the corner. Tony wonders whose it is. There’s food, at least, that Tony can spend his night eating. Not dancing. You couldn’t dance without a partner.

There weren’t many people here yet; the square was empty except for Fury, who stood in the corner and didn’t move a muscle to Scott’s fiddle-playing, and Sam, who sat by the food quietly. His foot was at least tapping along to the music. Tony decided to go join the latter; they might be better company, at least. 

“Wilson,” he says, announcing himself to the darker man, who looks up in surprise.

“Hi, Stark,” Sam replies, standing up to shake his hand. “Didn’t think you’d be coming.”

“And why is that?” Tony asks, wrier than he meant to say it. 

“Well,” Sam seems unfazed at Tony’s sarcasm. Good man. “You kind of, threw a fit and made a ruckus at the bar yesterday. Didn’t think you’d wanna dance tonight.”

“I don’t know about dancing,” says Tony. “But Natasha dragged me out here and you know how she is. You can’t refuse if you value your life.”

Sam nods, eyeing Nat Barnes in the corner, talking to her husband. “Why are they throwing this, anyway?”

“Something about their wedding, I hear,” Tony says. He hadn’t been paying attention either. “Apparently it’s their one or two year anniversary or something.” 

Sam nods. “You come with anyone?”

Tony shakes his head, trying to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth. The square was beginning to fill a little; Stephen, Bruce, and Peter had come. He was surprised at the second man; Bruce didn’t usually come to functions like these.

“Me neither,” says Sam, and Tony’s attention flits back to him. “Guess we’re both bachelors forever, right?” 

“Yeah,” Tony says, and takes a seat next to him on the bench. “Dancing sounds fun, though.”

“It does,” Sam agrees, a little wistful. Then he turns to Tony, taken aback. “Wait- are you asking me to dance?” 

Tony frowns at Wilson. “No, definitely not,” he says, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the idea of him and Sam dancing together. “I was just saying that it’d be fun if I had come with a date.” 

“Why don’t you go ask literally any of the women in this town? They’d say yes in a heartbeat and you know it,” Sam says, purposefully looking at May Parker, who was talking in a hushed tone to Peter Parker, her nephew. 

“I don’t feel like going with just anyone,” Tony says, although it doesn’t make a lot of sense. He was this town’s most eligible bachelor, despite his -slight- drinking problem. But this dance felt special. Different. 

More and more people arrive. Tony doesn’t see Steve or Sharon among them. _They’ll come later, together_ , the voice in his head tells him. 

“Looking for Rogers?” Sam asks. Tony turns to him, feigning confusion.

“What?” 

“Don’t try to play dumb, Stark,” Sam smiles a little. “All of Timely saw or heard your fit last night. You know he was out there for two hours looking for you?”

“Really?” Tony raises an eyebrow because he had only endured one hour of screaming before everything had gone quiet. 

“Yeah,” says Sam, looking at Bucky dragging Natasha out to dance. “Well, he screamed for an hour, maybe, until Carol told him to shut his cock holster. You know how she is.”

“Oh,” Tony says, a little faint. “Is he coming today?” 

“Dunno,” Sam shrugs. “Wouldn’t tell.” At Tony’s confused stare, he continues. “Well, he didn’t go home, he came around my place instead. Went straight up to the attic and stayed there. Tried to convince him to come out. Wouldn’t do it.”

“Is he still up there?” Tony glances in the direction of Sam’s house, at the flickering and dying candle in the top window. 

“Naw,” Sam says. “Left before sunrise. Wasn’t awake for that.” 

“Where is he now?” Tony’s shooting question after question. He’s surprised Sam hasn’t picked up the hint yet. Or maybe he had. And didn’t care.

“No idea,” Sam says. “Probably in his office. Or house.”

“He’s seeing Sharon Carter, right?” Tony blurts it out before he even realizes that the words are falling off his tongue. He hadn’t even _formed the thought_ before he said it. 

“Sharon Carter?” Sam looks at him. “No clue. But now that you mention it… he _has_ been talking to Miss Carter a lot these past few days.” 

Tony kicks at the floor halfheartedly, putting billowing dust into the air. Carol’s arrived now, but she stands in a corner next to Fury, rigid as a rock.

“I don’t think they’re seeing each other,” Sam tries, but it’s too late. That same feeling he had felt last night was bubbling up in his stomach again. Tony hated it. He hated it so much. It felt _wrong_.

“I’m gonna go talk to Danvers for a minute,” Tony says lamely and excuses himself. Sam tips his hat in reply. 

He actually does end up talking to Carol, who shoots him a glare like she does with everyone. “Stark,” she says, frowning, and then smiles playfully. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” 

“Uh, nothing,” says Tony, but Carol -unfortunately- sees right through him. 

“If you’re looking for Rogers, he’s in the fields behind my house,” Carol doesn’t even look at him. Tony nods a quick thanks and almost runs out to Carol’s house. At least, he’s stopped by Natasha. 

“Where are you going?” she asks, eyebrows raised in a disapproving frown.

“Steve,” Tony says breathlessly, and surprisingly enough, Nat lets him go. 

So he runs past Carol Danvers’ boarding house where she stays with some of the other women in town and out to the dry prairies behind Timely, where the grass grows sparsely, barely covering the rocky soil underneath. Tony remembers a time when there had been a battle fought near here, and the brown ground had been soaked in blood and tears, covered by the dead bodies of Confederate soldiers. All because of his Stark Repeating Rifle. Damn his genius.

He doesn’t see Steve at first, but the sheriff’s muscular form starts to appear, blonde hair glowing white under the moonlit sky. There are no clouds out tonight, just the ever-bright orb hanging in the sky lazily. Steve Rogers is holding a gun, not firing at anything in particular; actually, he’s not firing at all. He has it pointed towards the distance, towards the Timely dam where the river was blocked.

Tony approaches quietly, knowing full well that when Sheriff Rogers was irritated it was best not to bother him. But he was Tony Stark, and bothering people was what he was best at. 

“Steve?” 

Steve turns at this, although Tony’s voice is quiet. The left side of his face is hidden in shadows, but the right reflects the white moon, almost glowing. 

“Mr. Stark?” he asks, putting the gun back in its holster. Tony takes a step closer. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the square?” 

“You can’t dance without a partner, now, can you?” Tony says quietly, avoiding Steve’s gaze because he knows that they’re both thinking about last night. “How come you’re out here?”

“Can’t dance without a partner, now, can you?” Steve smiles ruefully, and turns away from Tony, picking up the gun again and shooting into the distance. Tony would advise against that, but he’s too confused to do that right now.

“But you have a partner,” Tony asks. “Sharon. You were going to take her to the festival.”

Steve nearly drops the pistol, but catches it, places it on the floor, and turns to Tony, looking completely and utterly confused. “Me and Sharon Carter?” 

“Er-” Tony stutters, which is very abnormal for Tony. “Yes. Right. You were going to take her to the square to dance tonight?” 

“ _What in tarnation_?” Steve asks in disbelief, eyes wide. “Who told you that?” 

“You did,” Tony says, holding up his hands.

“When-”

“Last night!” Tony says fiercely. “You said ‘I talked to her about it and she said “Yes, I should take-”.” 

Realization dawns over Steve’s face. Then he grins. Tony doesn’t understand why. This was not a time to grin. Their current situation was not a grinning matter. 

“Wh- why are you grinning?” Tony asks indignantly. “I just said what you said yesterday!”

Steve is _laughing_. He’s doubled over, laughing himself half to death. Tony feels the need to kick him. 

“No- why are you laughing?” Tony marches up to him. “Stop- no- wh- _this is not a laughing matter, stop laughing_!” He feels his cheeks grow warm; he pouts and looks at the ground. 

“‘M sorry,” says Steve, covering his mouth to muffle a giggle. Which Tony had never heard before. It was nice. “It’s just that- you thought that Sharon and I- no!”

“No?” Tony asks. “What do you mean, no?” 

“I mean, no,” Steve explains slowly, like Tony was a five-year old. But it just didn’t make _sense_. “No, I am not seeing Sharon Carter in any romantic way. I am not interested in Sharon Carter in any romantic way. I do not love Sharon Carter in any romantic way.”

“O- _oh_ ,” Tony says, blinking quickly. Then he frowns, confused once again. “Well then, who were you gonna take to the festival? Nat and Barnes would never let you show up by yourself.”

“Well, I was going to ask someone, but they stormed off before I could,” Steve blushes, red even under the pale light of the moon. 

“Wait, who stormed off-” Tony pauses. And freezes. “Oh. _Oh._ Oh. I- um. Okay. I- alrighty then.”

“ _Alrighty then_?” Steve asks incredulously. “I’m in love with you, Tones. And I would like to dance with you.”

Tony just coughs, every single muscle in his body frozen still. He can’t move, can barely breathe. 

Had _Steve Rogers_ , Sheriff of Timely, just said that he loved Tony? Steve Rogers, the golden boy of the town, in love with Tony Stark, the resident drunk rich white man?

“Uh- if you don’t want to go to the square that’s also fine,” Steve says quickly, averting his gaze. “I shouldn’t have brought it up- I’m sorry- uh- if you want to go that’s okay. Sorry.” He blurts it out and stands there awkwardly. “Will you please say something, Tony?” He’s practically begging; Steve never begged. In all the twenty-something years they had known each other, Steve had never begged.

Tony finds his voice again, raspy and low in his throat. “I do not want to dance at the square with you,” he says.

“Oh,” Steve says, moving to put his hands in his pockets. “I’ll just- leave- then-” 

Tony claps a hand over his mouth; Steve says something in protest but it’s muffled. 

“Steven Rogers,” he says. “I want to dance with you right here.” He removes his hand from the sheriff’s mouth and waits for a response.

One doesn’t come. Steve opens and closes his mouth, shocked. Tony smirks. And then-

There’s a mouth, hard against his, kissing Tony with such passion that Tony has to grab onto Steve’s shoulders to keep himself held up. Their lips clash together fiercely, and Tony feels like he’s floating. Strangely, it reminds him of picnics on the mountaintops with friends, where the sun rises and the day seems to go on forever, letting Tony for once be enveloped in its blissful light before the dying rays of sunlight fade beneath the horizon again. And then he’s back in shadow, except this time he’s not, because he’s with Steve Rogers and he’s floating again, soaring, maybe.

The kiss softens, Tony now leading it. It’s slow and loving and truly _warm_. Steve smells like the meadows down in the valleys, where the birds chirp endlessly and for once it seems like happiness was real, could be given. 

Steve pulls away finally, chest heaving and cheeks flushed. “So, right here, huh?” he asks, grinning toothily.

Tony smirks again. “Yep, right here?”

“Dancing without music?” Steve asks, a little unsure.

“I can hear Scott’s fiddle-playing just fine,” Tony laughs. “It’s god-awful, ain’t it?”

“He’s not so bad,” Steve shrugs, and takes Tony’s hand in his.

It’s not a slow beat, but they sway to it anyway. 

“So why’d you run off like that last night?” Steve asks into his ear, head resting on Tony’s shoulder. 

“Oh, I, um,” Tony says. “I was confused because I thought you were going with Sharon.”

“So you were jealous.”

Tony thinks about it for a moment. “Yeah.” 

They revolve around one spot in the prairie, the grasses tickling Tony’s exposed ankles and the wind hitting his face softly. The moon rises higher in the sky until it’s over their heads, and the celebration has long since ended but Tony doesn’t care much. Scott’s horrendous fiddle playing ends with a scream and laughs from the town, but Tony doesn’t give any thought to it. The hills in the distance are black silhouettes against the dark sky, which twinkles with the faint light of distant stars. And there, Tony realizes something. 

Maybe he had been jealous. 

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to write more of these 1872 style fics in my free time, so please let me know if there’s anything you guys wanna see! I’m always open to suggestions, you can drop them in the comments below or at my tumblr @virginiastxrks. Thanks!  
> Also, the reason why I chose “Danny Boy” was not only because Tony sings it to Steve in 1872, but also because it’s a beautiful live song that I thought fit their dynamic really well. So yeah.  
> As for recordings of the song, I would recommend the original one by Ernestine Schumann-Heink. Her voice is so gorgeous. But you can find others by people like Bing Crosby as well.


End file.
